Uneven Pathway
by SensationTwisted
Summary: Hermione is left at the altar. She contemplates about her relationship with the runaway groom.
1. Chapter 1: A History Most Mysterious

_**Chapter 1: A History Most Mysterious**_

_June 3, 1999_

**Part 1: 9: 30 a.m.**

Butterflies in the stomach always sounded like a nonsensical saying to the bride to be yet the feeling had persisted throughout the morning preparation.

It was quite aggravating really, if one had to be honest about the matter. Despite the fact, she had faced countless Death Eaters this whole wedding played quite havoc with her usual calm demeanor.

Hermione Granger literally fled. She was unable to handle the amount of noise and the intrusion on her privacy

Her haven of heaven smelled deliciously of worn out leather covering of books. Sniffing in deep appreciation, she settled down on a loveseat. Contrary to popular beliefs, Hermione did not always go to the library to read. She got as much serenity from being in the library as she did reading.

Today was to be one of the most important days of her life. One of the more momentous transitions in her young life yet Hermione Granger found herself looking backwards instead of contemplating her future.

Hidden as she was from the prying eyes, Hermione could not shake off the mantle of expectations. Once which at a younger age looked to be an exhilarating responsibility now haunted her even in her seclusion.

When the Second War, aptly named, began Hermione had a firm idea on what life was. Young and idealistic she had been ready to change the world. Never had she imagined that the world would change her whether she wanted to do or not.

Her world had consisted of well- consistency. Regularity that she treasured yet loathed.

Life after Hogwarts had taught her lessons. Some hard, some bitter. The journey had been one more tumultuous than she could have imagined back then.

Life had been hard during the war but it was the aftermath of the war that kept her awake any given night.

War was easy. There was no time to think. Neither regrets nor doubts. It was a matter of life and death; survival kicked in hard. Do or die. Morality was not the issue of the day. After some times, one even forgot why one was fighting. Then a jolt of horror spurred the adrenaline already pumping through the blood.

It was afterwards when everything rushed at you. Or rather, it was the case of everyone else rushing towards you.

War gave one set roles. Hero or villain.

Hermione thought it was easier to be a villain than it was to be a hero. No one held villains accountable for actions beyond their mistakes. No one expected them to save anyone or anything. That was in the defined nature of villain.

A hero or hero did not have that freedom. Freedom was an elusive dream to the hero. Heroes were beyond the war they fought. Naturally, as was the case of war it demanded heroes. There was nothing wrong about it.

Then expectations caged them after. There was no escape. It was everywhere.

People assumed that she woke up at night because of nightmares of war but that was far from the truth. Her nightmare did not consist of that twisted bitch Bellatrix Lestrange but rather of people.

At first, it had been gratifying. The adoring looks, the whisper of awes, the tears- seemed like proper enough thanks for the journey. Hell, it had almost helped boost the ego.

Nevertheless, the fun slowly faded away.

Wanting to recover and move on took over the need for recognition. They wanted the time to heal in private.

The public would not have it.

No one wanted to live history in the making. History was preferred disconnected from one's reality. History never should include _their_ suffering. Their agonies were not the etching of a new story.

History needed its figure. It needed figure heads. They needed tools to disconnect history from their reality, to romanticize it.

It was not enough that the wizarding world had sacrificed a little boy for their so-called peace. It did not matter to them that the boy, now a man, woke up feeling as if blood was staining his hands. The lives he felt he should been able to save. No, it did not matter to them. He was a hero.

_Their _own brand of hero- someone to give face to their pain. He was a front for history to judge their times. He was a metaphor of sorts to show the resilience of the people. His pain was the cover of their story.

By association of the hero, Hermione was now a heroine. Her life was no longer hers. She was like the boy-who-lived, for all intents and purposes, a property of the public to do as they willed.

She was not the only one who became a victim of the circumstances. Anywhere one looked, there were signs of rebuilding. Memorials sprung overnight. Streets renamed after the major events. A tribute from the public to the losses suffered.

Romanticizing the events hid the horrors of the terrors.

However, the romanticizing also hid the pain and the strains of the figures.

Some days it felt like the war had never finished and other days perhaps it never had been.

Now caught in the whimsy of public she found it impossible to breathe. She actually felt suffocated. Her nerves strained she was afraid she would break. Just explode one day. The destruction would be unfathomable. She wanted it so bad.

But here she was. On her most important day and outside the house people gathered to celebrate with her. No one asked her if she wanted them.

Even in her wedding day, she played a puppet to the public's romantic whimsy.

She sighed and walked outside to prepare to be a new front of the war. _Happiness. _

**Part 2: 10:30 a.m.**

Her gown was frothy and white. She absolutely hated it. The dress had rosette through out the dress. It was whimsical yet classical.

Hermione wanted to tear the dress.

But expectations once again geared its ugly head.

"If only you would let me do your hair," Ginny protested.

Hermione put her foot down on the hair. She was going to be the same nest haired geek with whom he had fallen in love. Let the public have their dress she would go to him with her own hair. Sometimes she felt as if her hair was the only real her public ever saw. It was sad.

She looked like a vision in the white dress and she despised every moment of it.

**Part 3: 12:30 p.m.**

The door banged against the wall as someone came in.

Hermione looked up. Her stomach clenched in fear. Their faces were grave. Hers were lined with worry.

Ron Weasley handed her the note as he walked towards her.

_I am sorry. _

That was all. It was short and almost sweet. It was very poignant in its simplicity.

Her fiancé had left her at the altar.

Lending credence to the rumor that she had lost it she laughed out. Louder than she had laughed recently.

He had behaved accordingly.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope you like this so far.


	2. Chapter 2: Grief

**A/N: **Thank you to all those who added the story to their alerts and favorite. I really appreciate it. I know the story is a bit unclear now but I am slowly in the process of revealing things.

Freak the eulogy was hard to write. Feel free to blast me for the pathetic attempt.

As always I don't the amazing HP stories or the characters.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Grief  
**

Hermione had always thought that the lines "eyes met across the crowd" as a cliché. But how else was she to describe her relationship with the man who had stolen her heart. Theirs had always been a meeting of chances and eyes meeting across the crowded room.

* * *

_May 31, 1998_

Hermione Granger fidgeted in her chair. Loneliness and grief had settled upon her like a wet blanket she did not want. She was aware that many in the services felt the same. There were more than fifty people in the service surrounding her yet she had never felt more alone in her life.

Looking around she caught sight of a couple of reporters. Her anger blossomed and she welcomed it more than she did the suffocating grief she had felt earlier.

_How dare they- the nerve of the nosy gossip-monger!_

As if it was not enough that the ministry had sent their goons but to have those reporters taking picture of what should have been a private moment of grief truly irritated her.

Although she should _have _known this would happen. Heroes were not allowed to grieve in private. Their emotions were to be put on display like fresh laundry for others to follow. At times she wished she could just blow them all off and leave. But she knew she would never do that. The dead deserved more respect than that.

_But their family also deserved a time to grieve, _she thought, a_lthough this was hardly anything private. _

Her eyes still narrowed at the telltale flash of the camera she was quite startled when she felt a hand clutch hers. Surprised she turned to face her best friend Ron Weasley. She squeezed his hands back. His eyes were red. It was not shocking but admittedly she had not expected this.

She knew she was the emotional one. The crier, if you would. She had always been one to cry out her emotions. But somehow she could not, not here; even if this was a service for two people whom she admired and their death still hit hard.

There was no chance in hell she was going to give those reporters any chance to catch a glimpse of her sorrow.

Focused as she was in her thoughts she finally noticed the silence which had taken over the service. Looking to the front she noticed Harry. _Poor Harry. _The ministry was using him as a spokesperson in the services of those who had died in the war. Harry never denied them.

Quite a nervous speaker but one would never know looking at him right now.

"Dear friends and families,

I stand here today with a sense of loss that many of you must be feeling. I stand here in place of the family of Nymphadora Tonks Lupin and Remus Lupin. I stand here today for the many wizards and witches who want to thank these two.

As a professor, friend, colleague, husband, member of the Order or father I believe that Lupin taught all of us to confront our fears. As a third year Hogwarts student who couldn't even give name to his fear Lupin taught me a very valuable lesson. This lesson I still remember - life has two things which we always are crippled by – fear and regret. We regret what we could have done and the fear which holds us back.

After meeting Remus I realize that we are beyond our fears. This man had so much to fear in his life- bigotry, self-hatred, isolation but he never ever let that stop him. I don't know if I could do what he did. He trusted that his will was enough to see him through the darkness. War asked him to sacrifice himself and somehow pushed him towards darkness. But even then Remus always kept his humanity.

I remember how terrified he was when he heard about the baby. I don't understand why. If there was ever a man who was meant to be a father-Remus Lupin was that man. He truly proved that any fool can make a baby, but it takes a man to be a father. In times of war we lose sight of what is important to us but I believe Lupin never did so.

Yet no man is an island. Lupin's greatest strength I believe was his love for his wife- Tonks. Many of us in this room know Tonks as a woman worth fearing. She was an Auror. Yet, those lucky enough to know her personally would say that she was more than just an Auror. Her quirkiness, her smile, her big heart and best of all her ability to stand by those she loved even in the darkest of time.

After a while, war becomes a routine. Sometimes we forget we are fighting for a cause. Tonks reminded us that we were fighting not just for ourselves but for those who come after. Even in times of war we have something beautiful to look forward to. That laughter is needed. That hope and love were truly our greatest weapons against Tom Riddle.

The ministry might have labeled Tonks and Remus Lupin but they are beyond what a mere label is. There is no need enlarge them into something bigger than they were. They were two decent people who saw injustice and tried to correct it.

Each life that was lost in the war weighs heavily upon us but this death weighs our hearts down. A tender baby is now left without his parents- an orphan. Yet, we all sigh in relief that this orphaned child will never forget that he is loved. His parents' sacrifices were worth something and the wizarding world has a debt we cannot pay back enough.

Goodbye Remus and Tonks Lupin. Thank you."

* * *

Harry had to break off more than a couple times as tears clogged his voice.

Hermione thought that for a man who sometimes had a hard time stringing words together, the eulogy was absolutely beautiful.

She was doing a good job of holding back the tears until she looked around and caught the sight of a person she admittedly did not think would be present. She was not sure how she had missed him in her previous perusals of those present in the service but there he was with some of the Aurors. Like always, his stance was aloof.

But then she saw who he was staring at. He was staring at Teddy Remus Lupin who was currently in his grandmother's lap. The baby had blessedly remained quiet during the service. Although any child of Remus would be expectedly quiet during a ceremony but with Tonks as a mother no one was quite sure.

Hermione felt her heart melt as she saw the look Draco Malfoy gave the boy. It was almost sympathetic yet heartbreakingly guilty. Almost as if he could not meet the Teddy's eyes Draco looked away.

Their eyes met for two seconds.

_Dammit! _Hermione felt the ice in her heart melt. _God fucking dammit! _

She gulped as she realized she had been cursing in a service.

But she could not help but curses.

How else was she to deal with her broken heart melting at the sight of her _ex_-lover's sad eyes?


End file.
